Eyes of Glass
by Sinose
Summary: In all those years of knowing the man, of being his brother, those eyes had remained the same. He continued to trust them long after he had stopped trusting the man's mind. WWII!AU.
1. Boots

I've returned to post another crappy fic that is entirely too short and should be a one-shot! Still, I liked the way they worked in parts, so I split it up. One of these days I'm going to write a longer fic, I swear...

Anyway, this is a completely pairing-less fic spawned off the ever-so-popular prompt, 'In the end it didn't matter.' Completely unoriginal, I know, but go complainin' to my Creative Writing teacher, hahaha. Soo... yes, it's an WWII!AU fic, for my two favorite brothers. It's totally non-explicit (I think) and the only reason I rated it a T was because of the setting. Hitler and the Nazis are never directly mentioned, but the implication's there. But the story's not about him. It's just Gil and Luddy.

Pairings: None.

Warnings: Online-translator German swearing? lol

[EDIT] Noticed a word wrong... it's been fixed. ^^"

[EDIT/10.4.11] I'm so sorry for spamming your inboxes again! A few more errors have been fixed, and I am in the process of completely and totally revising this! It seems really dramatic to me now, when I look at it, so I'm going to try and tone that down (I have a new death scene planned, yay!) and hopefully bring a few new characters in. Woot woot!

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><p><strong>Freedom of War<strong>

**Part I: Boots**

In the end it didn't matter. He was still paralyzed, he was still an invalid, and he was still dying.

What did it matter how many medals he won? What did it matter how much blood he took? All those years of dragging splintered knees through boggy swamps, of having shrapnel permanently embedded in his back, of hearing the never-ending circular rounds of gunfire, all of it – it didn't matter. In the end, he was cast aside, broken and useless. Defeated.

The door creaked open, and he briefly contemplated throwing one of the many pillows he had stuffed under his head at the intruder.

"Gilbert?"

His hand froze above the soft mass of fluff behind him. "L-Ludwig?"

The door opened even more – the traitor – swinging open at a tantalizingly slow rate. A shiny black boot clipped the tile, followed by a second, the sound so much more severe than the person in them.

Gilbert sighed. "Ludwig, just close the door and get in here."

The intruder did as he was told, obediently closing the door in a methodical way and standing stiffly at attention.

The wounded soldier surveyed the man. A neat black uniform cloaked his tall and broad body, the sheer quality of the material signifying his high rank – that of an SS officer. If the military uniform didn't give away his status, the man's mannerisms most certainly did. Gilbert's sharp crimson eyes took in the feet that were glued together in attention, the hands that were placed carefully behind his back, although if the tension in his arms were any indication, he was ready to fire the pistol strapped to his belt at any moment. The man's flaxen yellow hair was carefully combed in place, every strong limb still intact.

Gilbert smiled bitterly, satisfied with his inspection. The military had no doubt been treating his younger _bruder_ well. "You don't look dead," he commented sourly. "Or dying. So you're a hallucination, then, since _mein bruder_ wouldn't be in the hospital unless he was one of the afore mentioned. Go away." He shifted his head away from the officer, acting as though he were ready to go to sleep.

"Gilbert, please."

Gilbert paused. "What?" The word cut itself from his lips; cold, it shattered on the ground between them.

"I just wanted to see how you were," the gentle voice pleaded.

Still carefully looking anywhere but at his brother, Gilbert managed, "Fine. Good. Absolutely peachy. Now leave."

Silence answered his words. Ludwig sat down on the bed, causing it to groan under his weight. "How are they treating you?"

Gilbert snorted. "Like a _beschissen _hero." He sighed, his body shuddering under the stress. Any and all will to fight left his bones. "They had a shrink up here yesterday – and not one of those normal 'let's all feel good' shrinks, but a shrink, shrink. Like, a complete nut. I feel like he only wants to dissect me or something – feels like he knows more than he's telling me, you know? Guy wanted me to think over my actions, my last words, wanted to know if I regretted anything."

Ludwig remained silent. Gilbert didn't talk like this – it wasn't right. The older man never talked about his thoughts, or _gott_ forbid, his _feelings_. For Gilbert to go so far as to even mention the man meant that something about him had seriously bothered his cold older brother.

Gilbert turned to face him, then, his crimson eyes sharp and frigid, unhindered by years of war and bloodlust. "I told him no. I would have killed them all twice over, three times over if I had to. I _liked_ it. I wanted to kill them – taste their blood and have my own spine shattered and bullets in my gut." The soldier gave a bitter laugh. "He called me sick and walked out." Eyeing the door, he continued, "He's supposed to check back today, actually."

"Don't listen to him." The words were out of Ludwig's mouth before he could stop them. He swallowed, knowing that now that he'd said it, he'd be expected to back it up. Gilbert didn't believe in empty words. "All of Germany owes you for your services." There, that sounded satisfactory.

"Yeah, for running around and killing people. Sure."

"It kept me alive. It kept _mutter_ alive. You saved families from the enemy."

The younger man's logic was rewarded with a contemptuous snort. "Yeah, and it did you _so_ much good. Look at you. You're an SS officer."

Ludwig bristled. "We've been through this before, _bruder_. It is my place in the new Reich."

"Your place in the Reich," Gilbert repeated mockingly. "Not that what I do is any better, but at least I'm the one making the choice. What about you?"

"I – "

"You were always like that, Ludwig." The broken soldier's head turned away from Ludwig's proud face. "You always listened to me – ha, not just me, everyone! If someone told you to do it, you did it. _Mama_ didn't want you to join the Reich, _bruder_. But because _he_ told you to, you did it. She worried…"

The bed springs abruptly creaked; Ludwig had stood up. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Gilbert didn't watch as the SS officer left the room in the same dry manner as he had come, no doubt gone to report to his superiors about the patient he had just visited. It was only after the door shut with a clean click that he turned his head to face it. His brother had grown into a man. He wasn't quite sure when it had happened – maybe when he was away blowing peoples' heads off – but it had happened all the same and now he didn't know how to deal with it.

His long fingers traced designs in the cool sheets as he imagined he was holding a gun. "Bang."

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><p>And, guys, the italiziced words are sometimes German.<p>

_mutter - _mother

_beschissen _- fucking (thanks to _Shiroi Hana_ for the translation!)


	2. Hands

It's been a week! (It's been a week, right?) So, therefore, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Freedom of War<strong>

**Part II: Hands**

Gilbert hated it. He hated it, for it was not a man – it was never worthy of being human. Those beady eyes belonged to a falcon, those ugly claws to an alligator, that lazy grin to a skeleton. Put all together, each abhorred creature created _it_, the Doctor Lehrer.

He leered every time he spoke, hideous words dripping from his forked tongue. Gilbert hated that monster. He knew more than he should.

"You were angry," the snake observed.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed in distaste. "No more than I am now."

"And yet you do not react in the same way. Interesting." Triumph gleamed in the vulture's pale eyes, and Gilbert was sickened by it's happiness. "So it seems you _are_ capable of self-restraint. The _Regisseur _will find this useful."

Gilbert refused to answer, glowering quietly at the ceiling.

"Why, do you _wish_ to kill me? Is that it?" Laughing softly, Lehrer took scissors from the nightstand of the next bed, dangling them before Gilbert's face. "Here. Take them." The doctor placed the weapon in Gilbert's pale hands, curling his fingers over the handle. "Go right ahead."

With great satisfaction, Lehrer watched Gilbert stare at the sharp instrument, fingers quivering with desire before they let the scissors fall to the floor with a clatter. "Ah. You know you cannot. Your conscious is reigning in your instinct – _brilliant_!"

"I would appreciate it, Doctor Lehrer," a clean voice clipped from the door, where it always seemed to be, "if you stopped baiting _mein bruder_. His temper is bad enough as it is, and there is no need for you to test whatever theory you might have."

"Officer," Lehrer responded, his tone suddenly more professional. "Did I run over time? It always seems to happen with my good subjects." He gathered up his clipboard and pen, meeting Ludwig's cool gaze with one of his own. "If you would be so kind…"

As soon as the mad Doctor had left, Ludwig turned to face his brother. The man had once again turned away from him, looking as though he were determined to ignore the younger's presence.

"Gilbert…" Ludwig sighed, recognizing the mood Gilbert seemed to slip into whenever he was around Lehrer. He sat down at his brother's side, content with waiting in silence.

"What are you here for?" Filled with venom, Gilbert's words dripped down the walls and the windows, swirling in the air and tainting the sterilized environment.

Ludwig stared at the back of his brother's head. "Why do you resist the Doctor Lehrer? If you cooperated and answered his questions, it would be so much the better for you. You would not be bothered anymore, and – "

"And what, Ludwig? And what?"

Ludwig was suddenly met with the eyes that he hadn't seen since he was a small child under his older brother's care – that he hadn't seen again until the day before – until now. He did his best to repress the shivers that ran down his spine at the utter revulsion in those crimson eyes, the anger and hatred that seemed to seep out of Gilbert's essence and infect anything and anyone that was near him. If he counted, Ludwig could only recall three other times that he had seen his brother stare at him like that: when had first met the older man; the day before, when he had visited Gilbert for the first time in years; and the day he had rushed home and announced that he would be joining the third Reich under the SS. Ludwig swallowed uncomfortably. "And," he continued, somehow calling up the courage to argue his ground, "you would be allowed home as a war hero, with full medical treatment."

Gilbert laughed, a sound mixed with disgust. "I wouldn't be bothered anymore? Full medical treatment? Allowed home as a _war hero_? Ludwig, for someone so high up the command line, you certainly are _dumm_."

"The Reich would not harm a soldier who has done so much for Germany," Ludwig argued. "No matter how immoral you claim them to be, they are still Germans, and all they do is still for our great country."

"_Great country_," Gilbert sneered, crimson eyes bright with madness. "What _great country_ is this? Where their own damn soldiers can't keep their sanity… what does _Germany_ have to offer me!"

"What are you talking about? Germany can offer you everything! You would have a place here! It is your _home_!"

"What place!" Gilbert was shouting at this point, but neither man noticed nor cared. "I don't have a place here anymore! My place is out there!" He gestured wildly outside the window. "Out there, with all the other dead men!"

Ludwig stood up, rage pounding at his temples. "_You will not die_!" he roared, drawing up to his full height, looking for the first time like a true SS officer, not a small mouse in the guise of a lion. "_Gott_, Gilbert," he sighed wearily, calming down. "I don't understand why you insist on making life difficult for yourself."

Staring at his younger brother with his glassy eyes wide open, Gilbert mumbled, "Yeah. I don't either."

Silence blanketed the room for a few moments longer, before Ludwig broke it with soft words once more. "You know I'll always be with you, right, _bruder_?" Somehow, it hurt more than when they were yelling at each other.

Gilbert allowed himself a weak chuckle. "That's what I'm supposed to say, Ludwig."

"I know. But you won't say it."

"You're right. I won't. Because I won't make promises I can't keep."

Ludwig pinned the older man with a child's gaze, soft and warm and trusting – the same look that he used to have when looking at his brother as a child. "Then keep this one. Always be my _bruder_?"

Gilbert's pallid face split into a wide grin. "Like that needs promising. Always."

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><p>That was an incredibly sappy ending... for this part, anyway. Next part gets stranger. I should warn you now, there is character death in the next two chapters. There really is no way I could keep them alive, not with how this story goes. But I do have, like, three extra scenes lined up, and if I'm unlucky, there'll be more. So heads up! :D<p>

**Review**, and tell me if my German is off again (don't speak the language... sadly... TT^TT)! Thanks to _Nelopaw _and_ Blood Promises _for reviewing! And special thanks to _Blood Promises_ for letting me know my German was wrong! (I still have to go fix that... haha.)

~Unseen


	3. Bones

I don't know what it is wherever you guys are, but over here, it's Memorial Day! I felt like this chapter was oddly fitting, in a way, and I wanted to post something extra anyway. (I was excited!) :D I have been told that this chapter stretches reality... like, a lot. I would not take anything in this chapter to be historically accurate. Or anything in this fiction, actually. So... not historically accurate! ^^"

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><p><strong>Brothers of War<strong>

**Part III: Bones**

"What is his mental state?" It was the word of the metallic God, the piper that commands the rats. It was the word of one who was accustomed to control. It was the word of power – the power of the _Regisseur_.

"Disturbed," the Doctor Lehrer reported with a wide grin. "He has a tendency towards violence when angry, although there are signs that he can restrain himself if necessary. This indicates that there was sentient thought present when he killed them."

"Officer?"

Ludwig frowned hard, his face sticking together like lead. "The Doctor is correct, _Herr Commandant_," he confirmed through plastic lips. "He is undoubtedly unstable, and I do not doubt that he killed them because he wanted to."

"Then there is no argument," the _Regisseur_ concluded, speaking in the tone of one who had known the end result all along. He turned back to the papers before him. "Arrest him."

"Yes, sir."

Ludwig turned away, his face blank, bland, devoid of all emotion. The void where his opinions should have been opened, sucking away questions and protests, just as it always did. There was nothing left to dispute. Only immutable fact remained.

He dismissed the soldiers standing guard in front of the door. Soon, there would be no need for guards.

He pushed the door open with a single gloved hand, staring into the room with firm blue eyes. He found the bed vacant for the first time in months. An armed nurse was settling Gilbert into his wheelchair, intent on taking him out to see the first blue sky of the spring. The shattered soldier's eyes were tense, although it couldn't have been because the nurse was armed. The staff was armed to provide a false sense of security, not to offer any real protection from the dangerous patients.

Gilbert laughed when he spotted his brother, the sound snapping in the air like the whip the SS officer had tied to his belt. "So this is it, _ja_? Fine." The forced carefree expression dropped from his face when the nurse tried to touch his shoulder. "Get the hell off me," he snarled at the woman, shoving her into the bed he had just vacated. With a precise hand, he plucked the small pistol from her pocket and aimed it easily at his younger brother's head. Ludwig already had his gun out and ready.

For a moment, they merely stared at each other, searching for something in the shallow depths of the other's eyes.

"I'm to arrest you," Ludwig said flatly, the task of a soldier pulled over his tight throat.

Gilbert chuckled. "And I'm to make sure that doesn't happen."

They both shot and dove out of the way at the same time. The bullets ricocheted off metal, skimming the ceiling and walls, leaving skin and glass untouched. The crack of bullets prompted yelling and boots echoed in the halls, with sounds of dogs and people shouting "_gehen_" soon following. But the noise stopped at the door. It pushed away foreign noises and locked them out. Only the broken soldier and the proud SS officer had sway in the white-washed walls, where prison and sickness were the same.

The brothers' military training had not been for nothing. Even in disability, Gilbert had managed to escape unscathed and push over his cot, trapping the vulnerable nurse between the mattress and the wall. Ludwig needed no longer than for his finger to leave the trigger to find refuge behind a metal desk and have his next shot ready.

Ludwig chanced a look over his shield. He was met with the familiar gaze of a pistol barrel and insane crimson eyes, decorated with a wide grin. Ludwig nearly lost his head, a blind sheet of red and phantom blood pulled over his eyes. He hated that grin, the smile that did not belong on the wild face. He hated the pallid flesh that was stretched far too thin over a lazy skeleton. He hated the crimson madness most of all. He carefully leveled his own gun at the space between those eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me why I'm being arrested?" Gilbert mocked, insanity pitching his voice higher.

Ludwig tightened his grip on his pistol. "Six months ago," he reported as calmly as he would to a superior, "you slaughtered the men on your team. Heinz Eichel. Ernst Jung. Herman Gerber. Volker Mahler. Detlev Pfeffer. Rupert Sankt. Karlheinz Weiss. Hugburt Amsel. Wilhelm Baum. Ages nineteen to twenty-six. Each found on a roof with a large amount of bullet holes in their bodies. No explanation given."

"Orders," Gilbert spat angrily. "All of them followed my goddamn orders. Even if I ordered them to gorge out their own eyes. Would it kill them to show some originality?"

"And you shot them." There was no emotion in Ludwig's voice, only the cold fact that lodged itself in his throat.

Gilbert laughed, his hand steady on the gun. "_Ja_. What reason was left for them to live? They had no will of their own. They were bodies without a mind – a waste of space." His smile suddenly turned calculating. "What about you? Shooting at your own brother without as much as a twitch."

"You are too," Ludwig pointed out. The grin that he hated so much only grew wider.

"Self defense, _bruder mein_."

"Orders are orders," Ludwig repeated blandly. "I obey them for the German cause. And I have been ordered to arrest you."

"And you mean it, too," Gilbert grinned, glee saturating his words. "I've seen enough killers to know the _flüge_, the look. My little _bruder _is growing up. How sweet." Milliseconds later, a bullet hole was smoking near Ludwig's ear.

Reflex flexed the younger brother's finger, jerking the gun backwards as he shot. The sound of a window shattering caught Gilbert off guard, giving Ludwig the opening he needed. In the half-second that it took for Gilbert to react, a second shot knocked the pistol from his hand, and suddenly, Ludwig was on top of him – bigger, stronger, and faster. His knee shoved into Gilbert's gut, his hand on the older's throat.

"Never quite envisioned going this way." Gilbert spoke quietly, as if to himself.

Ludwig pushed harder, forcing the older man to look up at him. Traces of the mad smile had not quite left his face, lighting it up with an eerie light that Ludwig had never seen before. Gilbert's eyes were the only familiar thing left. Ludwig studied them – one, and then the other. They were as they always had been: crimson, calm, and quiet. Ludwig silently recalled the first time he had seen those eyes. He remembered thinking that they were the only thing he could ever trust to be the same in the world. They had seemed so stony; it felt like they would never change – and they hadn't. In all his years of knowing Gilbert, of being his brother, they remained the same, and he continued to trust them when he had long since stopped trusting the man's mind. Those crimson eyes had remained the same.

_Gilbert had always been sane to begin with._

"This is the end," Ludwig agreed, releasing his grip somewhat. "You will go meet the _Regisseur_ and testify to your fate."

"No," Gilbert corrected, smiling softly. "I will not, _bruder_." Somewhere behind his back, a long, pale finger flipped a switch.

Ludwig's body reacted to the staccato click before he registered it. The kilograms of muscles sprung and hurled him out of the window just as the entire room burst into flames. Ludwig fell from two stories onto the cool, squishy mud, landing with a jarring impact. His body protested any movement as he tried to stand, and he was vaguely aware of his eye swelling shut.

With bones clacking in their sockets and muscles tearing apart, he turned his only good eye towards the third window from the left on the second story – the window that was consumed in fire.

"_Mein bruder_… so dramatic."

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><p>Yup. That's that - one more chapter left to go before this arc is finished and I present ya'll with a few extras. To clear up any confusion - since my numerous betas asked - Gilbert is dead. (I'm so sorry! I love him too!) He does blow up his hospital room with a crudely constructed bomb - suicide, since he'd rather die than face Germany as a traitor. I feel like an absolute JERK for killing him, but there was just no way I could keep him alive.<p>

And, if anyone was wondering, the gun Gilbert uses to kill his team is an MG-42, I think - a friend told me all about this one :D. Although the pictures I found tell me that the gun was tri-pod-ed, I'm going to guess that it could also be carried, and Gilbert was too caught up in the moment to bother and set it down.

**Review**, and again, constructive criticism and German tips are always appreciated!

~Unseen


	4. Eyes

Ah, and the last little tidbit. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Freedom of War<strong>

**Part IV: Eyes**

He snapped together his uniform with care. Although they told him he was no longer a military man, they would not be able to strip away his military pride. He would make sure he appeared ready to march for the Führer himself. He checked over his thick jacket, inspecting the brass buttons and medals. He ran a finger down his boots to make sure there was not a speck of dust on them. With a satisfied sigh, he adjusted his eye patch one last time – a lovely memento given to him by his _bruder_. He was ready. Although it didn't matter, now. It was over – the end.

"Ludwig Brandt."

The proud SS officer walked into the courtroom when his name was called with his body rigid at attention and his blue eyes flinty, ready to be stoked to fire at the slightest provocation. Pinned down with a dark glare, no one dared make comment on the disgraced officer's uniform.

"The defendant is charged with crimes against humanity."

Ludwig waited patiently until he was required to take a part in his trial. Not that there was any need – he knew how it would end. The _Regisseur_ had already been hanged. So had the Doctor Lehrer. He would not be any different.

"Would the defendant take the stand."

With all the grace and dignity of his former status, Ludwig ascended to the small box that they had allotted him, hands clasped stiffly behind his back.

"Do you feel remorse?"

By now, Ludwig was familiar with the question. It took him no longer than any of his fellow officers to answer, "No."

"Would you care to describe what tasks you managed."

"No."

Ludwig did not need to look down to know his lawyer was shooting him an ugly look. He ignored it, directing his stare towards the prosecutor. The man fumbled under his heavy glare, and mumbled, "The prosecution rests. No more questions for the defendant, your honor."

The aged man peeled his face off the podium. "Has jury reached a verdict?"

"Yes, your honor. We find the defendant guilty on all counts."

The words prompted utter madness from the court, but none of it reached Ludwig's ears. A familiar vacuum pulled sound and body from his mind, leaving him alone. He did not protest as he was led from the stand to the doors, where he knew death was waiting for him. It was only another order, another mission, and as a soldier, he obeyed.

There was no fear when he gazed up at the tall scaffolding, the hangman's noose waiting for his neck. His eyes moved past them to look towards the low, overhanging clouds, ready to scoop his limp soul up in their arms – bloody, calm, and quiet. It would never change – not for him.

Blue eyes slid shut.

_Raise me up, bruder_.

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><p>I'm sorry for killing BOTH brothers! It's just that there's no way that Ludwig would survive; the Nuremberg Trials would catch up to him. Hell, they even caught a ninety-year-old man last month or something. The guy was <em>ninety, <em>and he was still tried and convicted. Sort of. Either way, although it's a bit excessive, the general idea runs thusly: leave no Nazi untried.

Anyway, that's the end of this lovely little four-part something-or-other. Whooo~ Hey, thanks to **Blood Promises** and **Nelopaw** for reviewing! You guys are awesome.

Thanks to _Riley Lupin-Black, Montita, BlackXxXRose, Blood Promises, Bhel-Elryss_, and_ Akari Izume_ for watching this fic, and to _pein21_, _Nelopaw_, _Montita_, and_azaneti _for faving it! And thanks to ANYONE who read this and might have neglected to leave a note - just reading it makes me feel special. ^^"

There were a lot of things that didn't make sense in this fic, and I know it: nurses don't carry guns as far as I know for one, and there are some psychological issues with Gil that might make some question exactly what was going through his mind at that particular moment. He makes some weird choices and I'll try to explain them if anyone has questions. But hey, I made it through without stopping entirely! Yay! This is still a gigantic accomplishment for me. (I had to turn it in for school and so therefore _had_ to finish it? What? Naaaaaw.) Anyway, I was hit with a plot bunny for something entirely new, so you might be seein' me again.

~Until we next meet, thanks to ya'll again, Unseen.


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